


this love shouldn't go to waste

by sleepy_danny



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom!Finn, Established Relationship, Knight of Ren!Finn, M/M, Sexual Content, Slightly Introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_danny/pseuds/sleepy_danny
Summary: “You’re distracted,” Kylo hisses. Finn’s wandering thoughts come spiraling back to earth. He bites his lips, eyes fluttering shut as he focuses on feeling—like Kylo instructed before pressing him back into the mattress and stealing the breath from his lungs. He focuses on the drag of Kylo’s fingers deep inside of him; the unhurried, slick glide and lazy exploration that made his skin grow feverish every passing second.
Relationships: Finn/Kylo Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	this love shouldn't go to waste

**Author's Note:**

> eye did not write this but L*na wrote this and is ashamed of this.

Finn pleas, an inaudible whisper heard by no one but the stark walls around him. His heart flutters in his ribcage like a startled bird. He swears the whole base can hear the frantic thump.  
  


Briefly, he wonders what Phasma would think of him. It’s awful timing (gods know there are much more entertaining things to think about), but he can’t help but imagine her face twisted with malice as her favorite apprentice sprawled leisurely on Lord Ren’s bed. Her visible disgust every time he put himself at the mercy of a capricious man who plays god and changes attitudes like the weather. She would laugh, if capable of it, right before sending him to be reconditioned.  
  


Good thing he outranked her years ago.  
  


“You’re distracted,” Kylo hisses. Finn’s wandering thoughts come spiraling back to earth. He bites his lips, eyes fluttering shut as he focuses on feeling—like Kylo instructed before pressing him back into the mattress and stealing the breath from his lungs. He focuses on the drag of Kylo’s fingers deep inside of him; the unhurried, slick glide and lazy exploration that made his skin grow feverish every passing second. He focuses on the hand steadying his hip, grounding him whenever he moves to chase evanescent touches. He focuses on the rough fabric of his robes, rucked up high to expose his bare chest; cool air pebbling nipples damp with saliva.  
  


This can’t be what the Supreme Leader anticipated when he knighted Finn.  
  


“Finn,” Kylo bites again, but there’s no real weight behind his tone. “How are you supposed to master the force if you can’t work through simple distractions?”  
  


“You’re playing dirty.”  
  


“You think your enemy will play fair?”  
  


“Are you my enemy?”  
  


Kylo scoffs and digs his nails into his hip. “You talk far too much.”  
  


“Then make me shut up.” He’s still getting used to talking freely, but he’d be lying if he doesn’t admit it’s thrilling. He sidn’t realize how much he enjoyed talking back and being snide until there were slim few people above him who could punish him for it. Kylo pretends he isn’t keen on it (as if Finn’s challenging remarks don’t set him ablaze in the best way; like he doesn’t leap at the bait the moment Finn sets it before him) but he’s an open book of expressions without his mask.  
  


Kylo draws his fingers from his hole. Finn groans low in his throat, catching his lover’s wrist in a loose grip. He pulls Finn’s leg up high and over his shoulder, then makes quick work of his remaining robes until he’s just as bare as Finn. In the dimness of the bedroom, Finn can make out his lidded eyes and parted mouth, lips still rouge from their frenetic kissing.  
  


He itches to touch him. Years of being emotionally and physically suppressed left him craving contact in any way he could have it. He’s a wellspring of constant feeling (which leads to mixed results during training, but the Supreme Leader still has faith) and Kylo’s become a conduit of his affections. Finn yearns to run his hands over his skin, feel the scars zigzagging across his biceps and his heart thudding underneath his palms. Through the force, he knows Kylo can feel his longing licking the recesses of his consciousness, persistent and growing.  
  


Kylo circles his rim with long fingers, never quite breaching him but pressing down enough that Finn’s dick weeps against his belly. He wants to touch himself—badly—but too much stimulation could send him tumbling over the edge before they even really start. Instead, he twists his fingers in the sheets, hoping Kylo would take the hint. He doesn’t. He takes entirely too much time with a simple task, despite his impatient nature, just to watch Finn tiptoe a precarious line of pleasure and pain. His body is taut like a rubber band stretched to the point of snapping.  
  


_Focus_ , he ‘hears’ in his head as Kylo finally rubs the head of his cock against his entrance. He bends over to capture Finn’s lips in a bruising kiss, his dick sandwiched between their stomachs and— _don’t cum yet don’t cum yet don’t_ —slowly, with more forbearance than Kylo’s ever shown in his life, he sinks inside. Finn throws his head back against the pillow. 

The stretch, even after extensive prepping, is a bit uncomfortable at. He’s big (a little too big sometimes, not that he’d ever tell Kylo because gods know he’s arrogant enough) so it takes time before he can comfortably push in to the hilt. Finn busies himself carding his fingers through Kylo’s sweaty hair, peppering kisses wherever he can reach. Kylo sucks love marks along his neck and shoulders, bruises blooming like dark flowers.  
  


“I’m ready,” Finn breathes, winded. Kylo kisses him hard one last time before righting himself. And like that, Kylo’s magical well of patience ceases to exist. Kylo begins fucking him in earnest, angling his hips just right for penetration. His hand flies to his mouth, but not in time to stop that stupid, surprised noise he makes those rough nights when Kylo feels like pinning him down and using him for all he’s worth.  
  


His eyes are screwed shut, but he knows Kylo’s baring his teeth in a smug grin. Finn’s nails catch against the skin of Kylo’s back. He’s going to draw blood. His earlier concern returns double-fold as mouth hangs open, spilling all sorts of obscenities and gasps and whimpers. Somebody’s gonna’ hear us, he thinks hazily, although the Knight’s quarters are sequestered in a corner of the Starkiller base, and Kylo’s room even more isolated than the others. But what if the General calls a meeting over the intercom? What if a sanitation trooper is cleaning the halls and all he can hear is Finn screaming bloody murder about how he wants Kylo to hold him up against the wall and just _take me, goddamn it._  
  


His face burns like a furnace when he notices Kylo tuning into his thoughts, a foreign bubble of amusement filling his chest. Kylo lifts his chin and traces his full lips with a thumb. He licks the pad of Kylo finger, and Kylo eases his finger into his mouth, a steady weight on his tongue. A fission of heat zips down his spine and pools in his belly, growing hotter as he drags his thumb in and out of his mouth in time with his dick.  
  


Kylo’s rhythm falters, his punishing pace diminishing as their overwhelmed with sensation. Not just the physical feel of being this close to each other, but their connection within the force heightening and blending emotions and senses until he can’t draw the line between what he feels and what Kylo feels. It’s disorienting being able to see himself, through Kylo’s eyes, but it’s more arousing than anything else. It only spurs on his orgasm when it hits him like being force-pushed into a wall.  
  


He grabs Finn’s cock, and within a few lazy strokes, his lover gasps and spills all over his hand. Finn melts into the sheets, spent and lazing in a blissful, post-coital haze. His body still trembles from exertion. Kylo gingerly pulls out, then collapses beside Finn.  
  


“Hell,” Finn puffs after a minute of labored panting. He walks his fingers down his torso, swiping a drop of stickiness from his belly in disdain. “You told me we were practicing breathing exercises tonight.”  
  


“Close enough.”

“You’re the worst, you know that, right?” Finn grouses. “Ugh, can you at least give me something to clean myself off? Your jizz is on my thigh and this is gonna’ stop being hot in like 5 minutes.”  
  


Kylo ruminates for a second, then decides to take matters into his own hands. He sits upright and knee-walks to the edge of the bed; Finn cracks a curious eye open just in time to get his legs pulled from under him, then obscenely pinned to either side of his body with strong hands. Kylo bows over, lowering his mouth and dragging his tongue up the mess on Finn’s stomach.  
  


“Wait— _seriously_ ?”  
  


Kylo doesn’t waste any time like before. He kisses the head of Finn’s dick, moves down to his strong, supple thighs. He cups Finn’s ass in his hands and spreads him open with his thumbs. Kylo rakes his gaze across his entrance, then presses a hot kiss against his hole. He eats him out with vigor, gripping Finn’s thighs hard so they don’t clamp around his head and leaving him utterly at the mercy of Kylo’s ministrations. He hastens, teasing kitten licks turning into broad, wet strokes. He buries his tongue deep, fucking him on that until his whimpers become overstimulated cries and he shouts through a dry orgasm.  
  


Finn rolls over and groans. Kylo swats his ass. Finn attempts and fails to kick him in the face.  
  
“You’re absolutely disgusting,” Finn mumbles in equal parts exasperation and exhaustion, covering his face with a hand. “Don’t even think about kissing me.”  
  


Kylo lurches forward and plants a sloppy raspberry square on Finn’s lips. Finn him away before he could slip any tongue, but the sputtering and glowering afterward is satisfying enough.


End file.
